


In My Time of Dying

by MsThunderFrost



Series: Heroes Die [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Cheating, Companion Piece, Crying, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki Posing as Odin, Minor Loki/Thor (Marvel), Post-Thor: The Dark World, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 08:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14374827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: Companion to "Heroes Die", set pre-Chapter 7.“May its magic sustain you in this world and the next, and guide you safely to Valhalla…"She knew that he was dead, could feel it like a knife, fresh off the anvil, carving its way through her chest. Her Papa, her sisters, her lover... all gone, and it was only a matter of time until she joined them.Gunnhild, delirious from infection and bloodloss, remembers a semi-happier time where she bestowed upon Fandral a very special gift...





	In My Time of Dying

It was in the quiet moments that she needed him most, when the world around her faded and she need no longer be the heir presumptive… Here, in this chamber, she was just a young girl whose world had just caved in around her, whose one father was dead and buried and the other lightyears away, busying himself with the misfortunes of mortals and leaving his children to suffer alone.

He hovered in the archway, however, uncertain if he would be welcomed further inside. For all his usual bravado, his pride still stung from her little stunt back in the Great Hall – though he’d taken the time to change his garments, his skin still reeked of the cheap wine that she’d doused him in when she’d first laid eyes upon his ‘entertainment’ for the night – and he was not eager for a repeat performance. It would seem as if the decision was made for him, however, when her dainty shoulders began to shake: a telltale sign of tears.

He’d never been able to stand idly by when she cried.

Closing the distance between them, he slithered onto the chaise beside her and wrapped a strong arm about her middle, pulling her tight to his chest. She let out a surprised little squawk at the sudden movement, wide, frightened blue eyes quickly rising to meet his face, the beginnings of a spell dying upon her lips… The blue light emanating from her fingertips slowly faded away and she lowered her eyes to the floor, trying to bite back another sob. With his other hand, he cupped the back of her neck and gently brought her to his chest. 

“Why did you not send for me, my love?” He asked, his voice scarcely more than a low rumble in the quiet of the night. Gently, his hand smoothed a course up and down her spine, his lips pressed to the crown of her head.

“W-What do y-you c-c-care?” The princess wailed, even as she pressed herself ever closer to his warmth. “You’d pre-prefer the company o-of that… that _whore_ to y-your own b-betrothed! Do not try a-and lie t-to me, Fandral! I s-saw you w-with my own e-eyes!”

“I think that you made your displeasure abundantly clear, my love.” Fandral smiled ruefully, “But you must understand that a man has needs.” That appeared to be the absolute _wrong_ thing to say, as heartbroken blue eyes seemed to flood with even _more_ tears.

She sniffled, before replying hotly, “And a-am I not enough to s-satisfy t-those needs?”

The warrior’s face split into a shit-eating grin, “Oh, what I would not give to be able to thoroughly ravish you…” He kissed her ruddy cheek, licking away a stray tear. “But we both know that that cannot be.”

“Only because y-you will it so!” She exclaimed, voice dripping with venom.

“Gunnhild,” he said gently, sending a shiver down her spine. He knew how it affected her, hearing him call to her so reverently. “You are in mourning. I would never be able to forgive myself if -,”

She cut him off, “Bullshit. I’ve been trying to get you to sleep with me for months, and you always refuse me!”

She wrestled out of his arms, rising off of the chaise and putting some distance between them. She scrubbed at her eyes violently, before crossing the room and planting herself on the side of her bed rather unceremoniously. It did not take long before the tears started to flow freely once more, her shoulders shaking with the ferocity of her sobs. Fandral’s chest tightened miserably. What could he do to convince her that he truly loved her, that he wasn’t just messing with her for the thrill of it.

Rising off the chaise, he crossed the distance between them and sat on the bed behind her. Gently, he took her tangled, matted blonde curls into his hands and began to smooth them out. Once the hair was detangled, he began to twist it into an elegant braid. She’d taken after Thor and had woven a stand of Loki’s hair into her own, and he treated this reverently… Eventually, she leaned back against his chest, her breathing evening out as she eventually drifted along the fine line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

“My love…” dropping his head, he pressed a kiss to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, right over her pulse point. “When your father first told me that we were to be wed, I was overjoyed. I’ve always wanted you.”

“Fandral…” she murmured, blue eyes fluttering slowly. It was so difficult for her to stay awake right now.

Fandral smiled, “And you wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. You would not spare me the time of day, and that was so unusual for me I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. You were just so beautiful… it took my breath away.” He fastened off her hair.

Gunnhild narrowed her eyes at him, but there was no real malice in her gaze. “Forgive me for not being overjoyed at the idea of being betrothed to a known womanizer…” she said.

“Forgive me for being unable to refuse the wiles of a beautiful woman.” Fandral countered easily, not allowing the callous words to harm him. “And trust me, the amount of self-restraint it has taken to not act upon my feelings for you should be commended.”

Gunnhild rolled her eyes, “I’m so proud of you for sleeping with nearly every unmarried woman – and some that were married, you ass – when it takes me bawling my eyes out for you to even hold me!”

“I _always_ want to hold you.” He pressed a kiss to the bare curve of her shoulder, “Perhaps I do not say it often enough, but I love you, Gunnhild. And you will make me the luckiest man in all the nine realms…”

Shifting slightly, he lowered her pliant frame down to the mattress. She keened when he drew away and he chuckled softly, adjusting their positions so that he was sitting at her feet. He settled his left hand on the thick curve of her thigh and rubbed soothingly, his hand moving in tiny little circles that mussed the fabric of her lavender nightdress. Blue eyes watched him curiously as his right hand, slightly more adventurous, teased the soft hem of her dress and, finally, catching it between two fingers, started to slide it up toward her waist.

“I don’t want a pity fuck.” She hissed, and Fandral’s chest tightened. He hated that that is what this beautiful creature felt she had been reduced to. He kissed the inside of her thigh thoughtfully.

“I would never disgrace you like that.” He said finally, hot breath puffing out against the soft, sensitive skin of her thigh. She shivered, and he licked a bold strip from the inside of her knee to her center…

 _“Fandral…_ ” she whined, his hands returning to rub slow, mesmerizing circles on her thighs.

“Do you want me?” He purred, his pupils blown wide and his normally bright blue eyes colored dark with arousal.

She swallowed hard, nodded. It took her a minute to realize he’d need more than that, that he wanted her to verbalize. “…Yes.”

“Mmm… not nearly as badly as I want you.”

He buried his face between her legs, inhaling the sweet, heady scent of her sex. She was already so wet… He licked from bottom to top, caressing the entire length of her sex with his tongue. He continued this pattern for several moments, sweeping his tongue in broad circles, always careful to avoid her clit. While he was not certain, he suspected that this was the first time that she was receiving such attentions from a lover, and he did not want the experience to end too quickly.

Gunnhild grew increasingly impatient under his careful ministrations, her delicate fingers finding their way to knot in his hair and her hips canting off of the bed in an effort to force him deeper… _harder_ … Her clit was fully engorged, swollen and peeking out from its hood, begging for attention. He continued to ignore it, instead pressing his left ring finger against her tight core. There was slight resistance as he pushed the finger inside her, and she let out a soft mewl, squirming as she tried to adjust to the unfamiliar feeling.

“F-Fandral..?” After a moment, he began to pump in and out of her tight channel, attempting to find that spot inside of her that would make her see stars. “A- _Ah…_ ”

“Does that feel good, my love?” He hummed softly, before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her swollen clit. Suddenly, thick thighs were clamping down on either side of his head, holding him firmly in place.

“There… right— _ah_!” Gunnhild’s words devolved into a carnal scream as he took her clit between his lips and sucked _hard_. “By the Norns, your mouth is -,”

“Magical? I know.” He cut her off, offering her a dashing smile.

“You certainly know how to ruin a moment, don’t y— _fuck_!”

Fandral swept his tongue in hard circles over her clit, pumping his finger harder. It was not long before he had to pin her hips to the bed with his free hand, her bucking threatening the careful rhythm that he’d established. It was not long after that she came, barely able to stutter out a warning before she gushed over his tongue. He savored each drop, offering her pussy one last messy lick before drawing back. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the princess’ lips, which she eagerly returned.

He adjusted her dress, before laying down beside her and drawing her into his arms. She looked down at his erection, quite visible in the plain black leggings he’d changed into after the debacle in the Great Hall. Fandral merely shook his head, placing a kiss on her crown of blonde curls before lazily tucking her head beneath his chin. For a moment, they simply lay there, content in one another’s presence.

“Now… care to share with the class why you were sitting in here, crying your eyes out, all alone?” He asked.

She looked at him uneasily, before sighing, “I miss him…” she confessed softly. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one, you know? Torhild is too young to truly understand what’s happened, and Karin… I do not think there is a soul in the nine realms that truly knows what the girl is thinking.”

“He was your father… How you feel is completely understandable.” Fandral soothed.

“Today would have been his birthday.” She continued, “I’d asked the Allfather for permission to travel to Svartalfheim so that I might see his final resting place with my own eyes, but he insists that it is much too dangerous for a young girl ‘of my talents’.”

Fandral frowned, “There is nothing wrong with being a sorcerer. You are one of the strongest warriors that I know, even if you have never wielded a blade.”

She smiled sadly, “That’s what he would have said.”

She reached underneath her bed and pulled out a small box, which she held out to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it and peered inside. Sitting on a plush velvet cushion was an elegant rose carved out of ice, no larger than the circumference of a silver coin. Slowly, he reached out to touch it – it was cold to the touch, but not bitterly so, and it was not wet like ice would ordinarily be. The rose was a labor of magic.

“I’d originally intended it to adorn his grave. I could think of no better gift for a Frost Giant than an elegant piece of art, carved of ice that would never melt. When I found that I would not be able to give it to him, I’d then thought to gift it to you…” she trailed off softly.

Realization dawned on the dashing man’s face, “That was when you came looking for me earlier, and found…”

“I am sorry that I reacted as I did. It was most unbecoming.” She sniffled, and he suddenly worried that she’d be overcome by tears once again. “I realize that you have needs that I cannot fulfill…” the erection pressing insistently into her leg was evidence of that.

“You fulfill my every need and more, my love.” Fandral countered firmly. “But I desire to save that special moment for our wedding night… However, you have my word… no more meaningless flirtations.”

She studied him curiously, tears in her eyes for a totally different reason. “Do you truly mean that?”

He brushed his nose against hers affectionately, inhaling her scent deeply. “Have I ever lied to you before?”

Gunnhild launched herself at him then, kissing him hard and fast. He held her tightly to him, feeling all of the anger and pain and sadness wash out of her body as he returned the sentiment. Before things could escalate further, however, she drew back, summoning the ice trinket to her. Easing the delicate item from the box, Fandral took note that it was attached to a long, silver chain, which she then draped about his neck.

“It suits you.” She said, admiring the way the pendant gleamed against his skin. “May its magic sustain you in this world and the next, and guide you safely to Valhalla… A very, very long time from now.”

He thanked her with a soft kiss to the temple, “I shall love you until I breathe my last.”

“And I you, my brave warrior.”


End file.
